


The Cereal Thief (or three times Stiles Stilinski cared too much about food)

by honeywolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Crack, Fluff, M/M, froot loops, stiles hates hipster cafés, stiles is obsessed with cereal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 16:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5010970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeywolf/pseuds/honeywolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You have a Froot Loop addiction,” Scott said, barely able to contain his grin. “It’s serious. Isaac, have we told you about the skiing trip in fourth grade when Stiles brought his own breakfast, in fear they wouldn’t have Froot Loops? He hasn’t gone a single day without them… well, until now.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cereal Thief (or three times Stiles Stilinski cared too much about food)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [khaleesivero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/khaleesivero/gifts).



> This is a birthday present for my dear friend [Vero](http://archiveofourown.org/users/khaleesivero/) :) 
> 
> Okay, so basically, I found this prompt on tumblr: 
> 
> We both reached for the last box of froot loops and I don’t care that we’re both adults I will fight you.
> 
> aaaand the following fic is what I made out of it. Enjoy! And maybe, leave a comment, feedback is always welcome!
> 
> Also thanks to [Helena](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mylittlemindpalace/) for beta-reading!!

 

It all started with a lonely box of Froot Loops. See, Stiles liked order. If you knew Stiles, this probably wasn’t  _that_  obvious; his flat would be a big black hole of lost socks and old pizza boxes if it wasn’t for his roommates. But Stiles liked  _some_  order in his life, some rituals, and one of them was eating a bowl of Froot Loops in the morning. Froot Loops. Not Cheerios, not Fruity Pebbles, not Apple Jacks. Froot Loops. Ever since he could remember, he had Froot Loops for breakfast, a fact Scott still found hilarious, seeing that Stiles was nearing the big two-oh, but he couldn’t start the day without them, it was his God-given right – okay, now he was starting to be a bit overdramatic.

Point was, it was late evening, there was one box of Froot Loops sitting on the shelf next to Frosted Flakes and Honey Smacks and Toucan Sam looked at him with an excited smile. It was a lonely, perfect box of Froot Loops, ready to be grabbed. A whole box of unhealthy, too sugary goodness, for only $ 3,99 –

The moment of perfection was destroyed as someone showed up next to him, taking the box out of the shelf before Stiles could.

“Hey!” Stiles exclaimed angrily, turning around. “These are mine.”

The guy in front of him only raised his eyebrows. He had impressive eyebrows, but that was beside the point. The box wandered into the guy’s shopping cart, next to a bunch of vegetables and olive oil and, to Stiles’ horror,  _Cheerios_.

“I was faster, so they’re mine.” The guy shrugged and turned around his cart.

“Yeah, but, I was just about to take them, so they’re mine.” Not that his argument was any good, but Stiles wasn’t ready to let his Froot Loops go. He had a very stressful day ahead of him, and he wasn’t willing to start it with Corn Flakes. Or Isaac’s weird organic cereal.

The guy turned around again, and Stiles asked himself what a guy like this was even doing with Froot Loops because he was clearly working out regularly, and Froot Loops were about as unhealthy as it got. Definitely not the right way to start the day if someone wanted to put on some muscles.

“Try to be faster next time,” the Froot Loops thief told him, his eyebrow game strong as hell. He grabbed some protein bars from the opposite shelf, wrapping his body around his shopping cart in a way that suggested he didn’t trust Stiles not to steal the cereal box out of it.

“No, you don’t get it,” Stiles said, closing the distance to this awful human being who was in the process of depriving him of the vital ingredients to his ideal breakfast. “I really need those Froot Loops. Look, I ran out them this morning and I have a really stressful day ahead-“

“You’re not the only one in need of Froot Loops,” the despicable, cereal-stealing man told him with a grumpy frown. He walked away from him, pushing his shopping cart as fast as he could without being suspicious.

“Yeah? What’s your excuse for buying them?” Stiles shouted, grabbing his own cart and following the man.

“None of your business,” the guy mumbled when Stiles was close enough. “I strongly advise you to stop yelling at me.”

“You stole my cereal! I have every reason to yell at you!”

A young woman ahead of them turned around to Stiles, looking scandalized.

“They’re mine,” he declared again, loudly, so that everyone could hear. “You practically snatched the box out of my hands.” Desperate times called for desperate measures and there was an elderly woman coming over from the meat section.

“We both know that’s not true,” the cereal thief told him, but his stoic expression made way for the hint of edginess.

“It might as well be,” Stiles said. “You took them away from me right before my eyes.” He crossed his arms. “Thanks to you I won’t have breakfast tomorrow.”

Froot Loops thief frowned. “There’s a whole shelf full of cereal, you  _do_  know that, right.” Stiles supposed it was a question, but his voice didn’t give any indication.

“I don’t like other cereal.”

“Cheerios taste exactly the same,” the destroyer of his breakfast dreams told him flatly. A lie. Cheerios tasted about as much like Froot Loops like the mold under the windowsill did.

“Oh?” Stiles raised his eyebrows. “So you could just buy another box of Cheerios instead if they’re the same to you.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t have to justify myself for buying cereal.” Froot Loops thief pushed his cart to the vegetable section, chucking kale into his shopping cart as if the leafy vegetable had personally offended the guy.

“I’m not done here yet!” Stiles called over to the dude, but his new archenemy had already reached the checkout counter and he could only watch with utter horror when the box of Froot Loops wandered across the conveyor.

“You asshole,” Stiles muttered more to himself, but he totally saw the old woman next to him shake her head, muttering something about ‘today’s youth’.

 

***

 

Cornflakes were not an acceptable option for breakfast, no matter what Scott said. Laughing also wasn’t a very nice thing to do, thank you very much, Scott. He should find better friends.

“You have a Froot Loop addiction,” Scott said, barely able to contain his grin. “It’s serious. Isaac, have we told you about the skiing trip in fourth grade when Stiles brought his own breakfast, in fear they wouldn’t have Froot Loops? He hasn’t gone a single day without them… well, until now.”

“Scott loves trashy romance novels. He has a stack of them in his wardrobe,” Stiles countered.

“Dude, why do you know what Scott hides in his wardrobe?” Isaac frowned. “You’re weird. Both of you.”

“Says the guy who always wears scarves, all year round,” Stiles muttered into his coffee.

 

***

 

So he met Froot Loops thief again.

It was about two weeks after the incident when Stiles found himself in this weird organic hipster café that had opened a few days ago across the street from where he worked on Fridays. Stiles hated it – it had healthy and pretentious written all over the place, but they served coffee and pastries. His lunch break was almost over and he needed some energy, preferably in the form of something sweet, even though it meant having to buy a gluten-free-vegan-organic-fair-trade muffin that cost him more than a whole week’s worth of food and most likely tasted like something Isaac would bake. Well, he didn’t actually have much to choose from in this area, since he didn’t want to go to Dunkin’ Donuts. One of his high school bullies, Jackson, worked there and he really didn’t want to run into him, or worse, his on and off girlfriend Lydia.

He eyed the counter suspiciously – there wasn’t much left, just a few muffins and a lonely salad that promised to be super healthy. He turned his head away from the salad, when he saw a familiar face in the corner of his eye. Dark hair, prominent eyebrows, constant frown.

Froot Loops thief. Maybe, if he put on his beanie –

“Are you sure you’re right here? I mean, judging from your obsession with… Cheerios, was it? There’s a Dunkin’ Donuts around the block.”

“So not only are you stealing my cereal, you’re also mocking me?” Stiles crossed is arms.

“ _You_  were the one yelling at me across the supermarket.”

“Well, you-“ Stiles scowled at the guy for a moment, then shaking his head.

“What can I do for you?” The girl at the counter asked in an overly faux friendly tone, spreading her lips widely.

Stiles stared at her for a moment, then continued to stare at the muffins. Froot Loops thief was apparently interested in the salad, judging from the way he was studying it. Well. He stole Froot Loops. Of  _course_  he would eat a kale salad.

“The kale quinoa salad and a latte, please,” Stiles said, his eyes widening in horror of what he had just ordered, but a glance back to grumpy dude’s frown and evil stare was enough for Stiles to at least feel a little bit proud of himself. And it was maybe even worth the six-dollar salad. Maybe.

 

***

 

Probably ruining the cereal thief’s day was  _not_  worth it if it meant buying overpriced and frankly disgusting salad, Stiles found out around five minutes later. Nope. He honestly didn’t care how healthy, organic, and most definitely vegan it was, it lacked just about everything. Mostly dressing, or something to drown the taste with, since the salad managed the almost impossible and tasted bland and offensively disgusting at the same time.

“You’re impossible.”

Froot Loops guy sat down next to him with a coffee and an apple, his frown getting more and more intense by the second.

“No, I’m Stiles.”

“What?”

“My name. Stiles,” Stiles sighed, pushing leaves of kale around with his fork.

“I didn’t ask for your name,” the guy said, his voice gravely.

“Yeah but you said I was impossible and I- seriously, not only you steal other people’s breakfast and eat kale, you’re not even funny?” He looked up, catching the guy rolling his eyes.

“You’re too obsessed with food. And  _you_  stole my salad.”

“Not if we go by  _your_  definition of stealing. I had it first, so it’s mine. No, I didn’t want it, yes, it’s absolutely disgusting, but it’s  _mine_.”

“It’s not disgusting. And it’s better than the junk you call breakfast.”

“It  _is_  disgusting. It tastes like something died right there on my tongue.” Stiles stuck out his tongue, grimacing until grumpy guy shook his head slowly while closing his eyes.

“If  _that’s_  the taste of health and longevity, I don’t want it.”

“You’re exaggerating.” Cereal thief lifted an eyebrow. “Kale is an acquired taste, but it’s not  _that_  bad.” He snatched the fork out of Stiles’ hand and helped himself.

“Now you’re an actual food thief. Hah. I knew it. This – this is you stealing my food.”

“You hate it.”

“This gives you no right!  _You’re_  impossible,” Stiles grabbed the fork and held it in both of his hands.

“Derek.” Cereal thief took a bite from his apple, looking sassy as hell.

Stiles blinked, sat there for a moment before he shook his head.

“I’m… gonna go now. Eat the salad, or whatever,  _Derek_. Stealing my food is not okay in any way.”

“You think it’s disgusting, though. You probably wouldn’t have eaten it anyway.”

“Well it’s kale. Kale is evil. ” Stiles said loudly, attracting the attention of some other customers. He wasn’t in the mood for this guy. He definitely wasn’t. He turned around, about to dramatically storm out of the café.

“See you, Stiles. And I sincerely hope you won’t have another breakdown about cereal.”

Now. Now was time to dramatically storm out.

 

***

 

“So he out-sassed you.” Scott didn’t even look up from his phone.

“He stole my food for real this time. And he was pretty mean.”

“And he was sassier than you. He out-sassed the king of sass. He hurt your ego.”

“He didn’t hurt my ego, Scott. He was mean! It doesn’t have anything to do with my ego, Derek just isn’t a very nice person!”

Isaac came into the kitchen, taking off his scarf. “Who’s Derek?”

“The cereal thief. He hurt Stiles’ feelings because he is sassier than him,” Scott said with a smirk. “I actually wanna tell your dad about this; there’s a sassier person than Stiles Stilinski living in this town.”

Stiles hit him with one of Isaac’s grapes. “I need new friends.”

“You won’t find any. Too much effort. You’d give up within a week, deciding Netflix is enough,” Isaac told him, his eyes big and sincere.

Stiles hit both of them with grapes until the plate was empty.

 

***

 

Third time’s the charm, or something. Although, considering the situation he was in, he wasn’t really sure what the charm was supposed to be.

The situation involved:

\- Stiles, in a hungry and pissed mood,

\- Derek, standing next to him rather cluelessly, and

\- a packet of noodles. Spaghetti, to be exact. The last packet of spaghetti, to be even more precise.

“So, on a scale of one to ten, how much do you need spaghetti in your life right now?” Stiles asked, inching his hand closer to the noodles.

“I was about to have spaghetti for dinner. So ten, I think.”

“Okay, so take some other noodles? They’re all the same, just different forms.”

“Why don’t you?” Derek asked, shrugging.

“I…” Stiles started carefully, “am only allowed to eat Spaghetti? By law?”

“ _Right_ , so then I am severely allergic to every other kind of noodles,” Derek countered, deadpan.

“I care too much about food, you said it yourself, so… don’t let me have a breakdown here?” Stiles asked. “I mean, I  _could_  start shouting, attracting worried staff and customers, how about that?”

“Don’t you dare.” Derek sighed and grabbed the packet, turning around to Stiles and shaking his head before he started talking.

“You are coming over to my place tonight for dinner.”

Stiles stared.

“I mean… I would seriously do anything to keep you from losing it in the supermarket  _again_ , even though at this point I’m pretty sure you’re doing this to fuck with me –“

“You just… invited me to dinner so you can buy these spaghetti.” Stiles grinned, then outright laughed and almost lost his balance as he leaned back onto his shopping cart.

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” Derek said, grabbing his hoodie to keep him upright.

Stiles shrugged. “Are you going to cook normal pasta or something healthy?”

Derek raised an eyebrow, and rolled his eyes, which apparently were two of his three default reactions when it came to Stiles, the third being his trademark frown.

“I’m not actually up for playing this game any longer, Stiles. My place at eight. Pasta with meatballs. Don’t be late.”

Derek fished out a small piece of paper from his pocket and scribbled something on it before handing it to Stiles.

“Here you go, my address.” Derek stared at him as if even imagining their dinner physically pained him, before he walked away.

 

***

 

“So, it’s like a date,” Isaac said, zapping through the channels.

“No, why would it be a date? It’s a truce-dinner.”

“Yeah, whatever, dude. It’s dinner. With the guy who is probably still traumatized of you yelling at him in the cereal section. I’m not sure how you do this, Stiles, are you offending people until they give you what you want?”

Isaac settled on a re-run of  _The Big Bang Theory_  and for a moment, both of them watched the show until Isaac continued.

“You’re not even that good-looking.”

“Hey! I  _am_  good-looking!” Stiles protested.

Isaac shook his head. “Nah. You’re pale and lanky and you have a weird nose.”

“At least my chin isn’t crooked, like Scott’s,” Stiles mumbled, sticking out his tongue when Isaac wasn’t looking.

“Scott totally looks like a puppy. Sorry bro,” Isaac said, shrugging. “But keep up yelling at people about food since it seems to work for you.”

“I will definitely get me new friends, do you hear me?”

 

***

 

It wasn’t a date.

Stiles wasn’t entirely sure what it was, but it wasn’t a date. It was… some sort of truce, it was Derek being so pissed off he had invited him, and well, it would probably turn out to be him and Derek eating and quietly judging each other while doing so, because honestly, he was almost 100% sure what was to come were the most awkward hours of his life.

He rang the doorbell to Derek’s apartment, a nice place, definitely nicer than his own, judging from the posh-looking door. Derek opened almost instantly, dressed in a checkered button down shirt and jeans and looking like the perfect son in law. He even had done something to his hair, Stiles noticed.

“Was I supposed to dress up for this?” Stiles asked, a bit flustered.

“Uhm,” Derek said. “Come in.” He ignored Stiles’ question entirely, but from the way Derek’s ears were slowly coloring red, he supposed the guy was regretting some of his life decisions right there.

Something really smelled delicious already, and it wasn’t the pasta.

“What’s the smell?” Stiles asked, following Derek into the kitchen-slash-living room.

Derek turned halfway around to him. “You’ll see,” he said and smirked.

The table was simply but well laid, a bit too well, probably. Was Derek just showing off here or… had Stiles misinterpreted the whole situation? Was this a date after all?

He shook his head. He hardly knew Derek, but if he was completely honest with himself, something he wasn’t too often, he wouldn’t mind. Not at all. So much for hating the guy.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Derek said. “You can sit down.”

Stiles didn’t; instead, he moved closer to the kitchen counter. “Let me see first,” he exclaimed. There was something smelling like chocolate in the oven and then there was the scent of fresh basil and some other spices Stiles didn’t know.

“If you wait for another five minutes, you’ll see anyway. Sit down, Stiles.”

“Oh, come on, one peek?”

He was standing next to Derek now, trying to peek under the lid of the saucepan while Derek tried his best to keep Stiles from doing so. Their arms touched, Stiles noticed with a painful clarity, and he stopped, instead glancing at Derek.

“What?” Derek asked without looking at him and Stiles didn’t actually think about what he was doing next, he only lifted his chin and pecked a small kiss on Derek’s cheek.

“Thanks for inviting me,” he mumbled, at a loss for what else to say, but Derek turned around quickly – so quickly in fact that Stiles didn’t have time to step back and got pressed against Derek, standing between him and the kitchen counter.

“This… it’s not a date. You know that, right?” Derek asked. “It’s… I only invited you because you’re a pain in the ass.”

“Your argumentation doesn’t make sense,” Stiles said quietly. “But I agree. Not a date.”

Derek nodded, so close that their noses almost touched.

“That’s… that’s good.”

Stiles grabbed Derek’s shoulders to pull him closer, and somehow, all of a sudden, they were kissing and Derek was cupping Stiles’ face and Stiles felt Derek’s stubble scratching against his skin in a not at all a bad way.

The kiss didn’t last long, since Derek broke it after a few seconds.

“Actually, dinner’s ready,” he mumbled, still pressed against Stiles.

“Do you think we could postpone it for a bit?” Stiles asked suggestively, his hand still in Derek’s hair.

“No,” Derek chuckled, but his lips touched Stiles’ in the process. “We’re gonna eat dinner. I baked chocolate cake.”

“Okay,” Stiles mumbled, only to pull Derek closer once again, kissing him just for a bit more, but he eventually stopped. “You had me at cake. Let’s eat dinner.”

Derek nodded and reluctantly stepped back, but stopped only to look at their linked hands.

“Still not a date?” Stiles asked quietly.

“Still not a date,” Derek answered, but the smile on his lips said otherwise.

 

***

 

“So… there’s one question you haven’t answered,” Stiles started, hours later, his head on Derek’s chest.

“Hm?”

“Why Froot Loops  _and_  Cheerios? You said yourself that they tasted the same to you.”

Derek chuckled quietly and sat up, ignoring Stiles’ whine when he suddenly found himself lying on the sofa instead of Derek’s chest.

“I cooked you dinner and we made out and you’re still thinking about Froot Loops?” Derek asked, probably judging him, but Stiles didn’t care.

“Yeah. Always. Now answer my question.”

“My niece was visiting me and I wasn’t sure what to buy. She’s about as weird as you when it comes to breakfast.”

“So I’m not the only one,” Stiles said with a triumphant grin.

“She’s five.” Derek glared at him. “Now stop talking about cereal and kiss me,” he said, and Stiles didn’t have to be asked twice.

 


End file.
